


sheer nerve

by myn_x



Series: ♡✧:｡Kinktober 2017｡:✧♡ [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Come as Lube, Established Relationship, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stockings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-19 00:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12398961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myn_x/pseuds/myn_x
Summary: In which Yahaba learns that Kyoutani is anything but subtle, inallthings. Thehardway.





	sheer nerve

**Author's Note:**

> have some more gratuitous ooc self indulgence :3

"Kyoutani, are you--" Yahaba's question withers to a dry croak as he steps inside their bedroom, the prettiest but dirtiest of pictures unfolding before him.  
  
Their rumpled sheets are nothing new, and neither is a sullen, scruffy Kyoutani lazily reclining among their mess of pillows, nor is the subtle challenge in raised brow. What sends Yahaba's thoughts into disarray is the ribbon of lace sitting low on Kyoutani's hips, spilling into a delicate swath of fabric stretched over his crotch, and the stockings that make his legs look as if they'd been dipped in velvet, curve-hugging shadow.  
  
"Am I what, ready for bed? What does it look like." Kyoutani growls, tilting his head back against the headboard. Then, quieter, "Been ready. Waiting for you to finish preening."  
  
Swallowing thickly, Yahaba pulls his gaze from Kyoutani's bulge to let it wander along the elastic bands that stretch down his freckled thighs to hold the hosiery in place. The stockings conform to every sculpted line and muscle, accentuating the contours of his hamstrings and calves, the dips of his ankles, the arches of his feet.  
  
"I don't know why you bother with all that when we're just gonna mess each other up." Kyoutani’s legs seem to go on for miles that Yahaba aches to travel with his tongue. He wants to feel their silhouetted form wrapped around his waist, chafing deliciously against his skin as he fucks that that dirty look from his face.  
  
He should say as much, but all he can do is choke out, “And what about you?”  
  
What stuns him more than Kyoutani putting himself on full, over-the-top display, all cake with extra icing, is the sheer nerve of him.  
  
Without the slightest hint of shame or self-consciousness, he levels Yahaba with a black-rimmed lion's glare, and the combination of lace, thigh highs, and angry scowl that Yahaba knows won't melt from kisses alone has him dripping and weak with the need to try.  
  
Three strides and a leap would have him in the bed and on Kyoutani, yet he's rooted in the doorway. Yahaba flounders for something, anything, comes up empty save for a rasped "Kyoutani” that sounds like a plea for mercy.  
  
The eyebrow jumps higher. There's nothing shy about the way Kyoutani scoots forward so he can lean back on one elbow, throw the other arm over his stomach, and prop his knee up to fully expose the black thong barely holding him in place. He isn't even fucking hard yet and Yahaba can practically feel him in his mouth from outline alone.  
  
"We're home. When are you going to start using my name, Shigeru." Kyoutani's deadpanned question gives way to the soft thwack of elastic against his hip as he flicks his finger under the thong's strap, amber eyes glowing with intent.  
  
Kyoutani had to have planned this, just to see Yahaba's composure slip, to stop him in his tracks as he fussed about the errands they needed to take care of the following day -- he never failed to remind Yahaba that with all the chattering he did he was shit at dirty talk. Forever prattling on about responsibilities, like deciding which bills to pay was foreplay and fucking was the perfect time to make a grocery list, an item for every thrust, nearly always forgotten in the afterhaze.  
  
It's sexier somehow than if Kyoutani had been waiting for him naked; the lingerie leaves nothing to the imagination but the shadow of what’s almost hidden, yielding just enough to tantalize.  
  
"Can I--" Yahaba attempts to clear the stupidity from his throat before continuing. "Can I, uh--"  
  
"Just get over here already," Kyoutani mutters, and underneath the bite of his words Yahaba hears the faintest notes of desperation that mirror his own sense of urgency.  
  
He closes the distance in two and launches himself at Kyoutani, who bears his weight with a grunt and a barked “The fuck!"  
  
Yahaba chases the surprise of his attack by pressing a fierce, bruising kiss to the hard lines of Kyoutani's mouth, and Kyoutani returns his ferocity by sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and teasing it with a canine in warning.  
  
When Kyoutani kisses, it’s always sharp, like a razor’s edge, like the rest of him save for the brief glimpses of the gentle soul hidden beneath flinty glare. But his eyes are closed now, and Yahaba licks into him, hungry for the moment Kyoutani lets himself thaw into an eager puddle.  
  
While Kyoutani’s lips are preoccupied, Yahaba sets his sights on his real goal: the silky feel of Kyoutani's stocking-clad legs.  
  
He flattens himself against Kyoutani to grind their cocks together, Yahaba through his sweatpants and Kyoutani through the itty bit of fabric that really shouldn't be called a thong. The side lace is insubstantial in Yahaba's fingers, like one sharp yank and it would come apart in his hands, leaving Kyoutani truly bare.  
  
As it stands, the material over his crotch is just as flimsy; he can feel Kyoutani harden to fullness at the press of his hand, and he drags the thong down just enough to expose his head and thumb his slit before withdrawing and continuing on his path down Kyoutani's leg.  
  
Kyoutani breathes a frustrated whine into the kiss and Yahaba laughs softly against his mouth before his lips and tongue double down on their task of leaving Kyoutani breathless. He skims his fingertips along the vertical strap, pausing just at the edge of the stocking where it squeezes around his thigh at its thickest.  
  
Yahaba’s lips pull up into a smirk at the feel of the lace biting into the give of Kyoutani’s flesh. “I still wanna know how long it took for you to get these on.”  
  
“Less time than you spend on your stupidly beautiful hair.”  
  
“So you do like it. My efforts are not in vain then.” Yahaba doesn’t get to gloat for very long, though, because Kyoutani sinks his teeth into his shoulder before pulling back to growl at him.  
  
"Wrong and wrong. You’re the vainest person I know, and I can’t stand you.”  
  
Yahaba pushes up and away from the danger zone that is Kyoutani’s mouth. "Clearly." He offers a wry smile and reaches down to snap the strap against Kyoutani’s thigh in reminder.  
  
Kyoutani barely represses a shudder at the gentle sting. "I'm serious."  
  
"So. Serious," Yahaba says between the kisses he trails across Kyoutani’s flushed cheek toward his equally red ear.  
  
Snicking his tongue at him, Kyoutani brushes his calf against the back of Yahaba's thigh, and the velvet slide against his skin makes Yahaba shiver -- never mind Kyoutani’s hoarse whisper. "Enough talk, Shigeru.”  
  
Yahaba sighs his agreement against Kyoutani’s lips before falling into another deep kiss. Braced on one elbow as he sucks on Kyoutani’s tongue, he fondles along the sheer material stretched across Kyoutani’s leg, fingers gripping his thigh in pulses, appreciating how well the nylon hugs him.  
  
After a few squeezes he reluctantly abandons the stocking-covered portion of Kyoutani’s skin for the slice of fabric cutting across Kyoutani’s hipbone, sliding the pad of his thumb over the jut to make Kyoutani twitch into his touch. He slips beneath the strap and makes as if to draw it completely off, smiling again when Kyoutani shifts his hips to aid him, but he only fingers the edge infuriatingly close to where Kyoutani really wants him.  
  
He caves when Kyoutani arches underneath him and groans into his mouth, breathy and impatient. Pulling the thong to the side so that Kyoutani bobs free, Yahaba stays latched to Kyoutani’s mouth and rolls them over so that Kyoutani is on top, the dry rub of his stockings sparking along his nerve endings and igniting the already hot rush of his blood.  
  
Yahaba tries to follow Kyoutani's lips when he pulls off to sit up, falling back with a groan when Kyoutani fits his hands against his rib cage for support and lazily circles his hips over his crotch so that their cocks glance off each other, surely to get back at him for earlier torment. The sight of Kyoutani straddling him in nothing but a teeny, lacy black thong and stockings, grinding over him with his head thrown back...Yahaba can feel himself straining against his boxers, and he reaches down to push them out of the way as Kyoutani leans down to rain messy, wet kisses on his lips.  
  
At the first brush of their bared cocks, Yahaba gasps and trembles, needy thrusts earning him nothing but hot bursts of fleeting friction without the aid of their hands. They fumble against each other like that, Kyoutani's hands wandering over Yahaba's chest to tease at his nipples while Yahaba twists his fingers in the sheets, ever searching for purchase that Kyoutani denies by shying away at the last second every time Yahaba presses upward.  
  
Every little movement causes Kyoutani's feet and calves to shift against Yahaba's thigh and the rasp of the stockings against his skin feels so fucking good, like a tickle but infinitely more pleasant. He's acutely aware of the lace edges cutting into his hips where Kyoutani's thighs cage him in and he pushes against Kyoutani's chest to force him to sit up, making him squeeze tighter to keep his balance. The scratchy drag of the stockings puts a shake in Yahaba's hand as he wraps his fingers around them both them at their bases and finally gives his full attention to their flushed, leaking erections.  
  
Kyoutani hisses when Yahaba begins to stroke them off together, rough and fast pulls that have Kyoutani rocking into his rhythm, muttering obscenities about how perfect Yahaba's hand is around their cocks, how fucking amazing Yahaba feels against him, how thick and wet he is, how pretty and dirty his moaning sounds. He fills the heavy air around them with praises that make Yahaba's skin burn scarlet with fever, punctuated by the slick sound of skin on skin.  
  
Yahaba senses when Kyoutani is about to snap: He falls silent save for the throaty pants that match the pace of Yahaba's hand as his cock pulses against his skin, a look of honeyed bliss in place of the scowl, and his hips work in short, tight thrusts that stutter out of rhythm while his slit weeps thick streams of precome, easing the glide of Yahaba's fist over their heads until Kyoutani tenses and spills over his fingers in sticky spurts.    
  
It takes Kyoutani a while to finish coming. Yahaba keeps his eyes on Kyoutani's and strokes him until he goes completely soft, squeezing him of every last drop that he then spreads over himself in languid passes of his hand, moaning wantonly to spur Kyoutani on. When Kyoutani finally relaxes, the deep flush on his cheeks nearly matches the tomato red of his sweaty chest, and his breathing remains fast and rough, his pulse fluttering against Yahaba's skin where they're touching. 

His cock aching for release, Yahaba gives Kyoutani a moment's more respite before reversing their positions again -- Kyoutani's breath leaves him in a rush when he flops against the mattress, and he gazes up at Yahaba kneeling above him with a question in his eyes that Yahaba answers with what he hopes is a sultry look, eyes half-lidded and lips kinda open. He drags a finger across his stomach to gather the come there before it dries into a trail and smooths his hand over his dick to add to its warm stickiness. 

There’s no time, really, to explain what he needs, so he pushes Kyoutani's legs together, trying not to melt when his hands slip along the stockings, raising his ankles over one shoulder gently and slowly enough that Kyoutani could pull away from him if he chose to, but Kyoutani just watches him, expression unguarded in the afterglow. 

Brow furrowing, Yahaba breathes through his mouth with the effort of not coming when his head breaches Kyoutani’s thighs. His hot, sensitive skin catches at the material spread over them, smooth but not quite smooth, the friction just shy of teasing. He shakes from the effort, torn between slamming into Kyoutani and drawing out the delicious pain as much as he can until his pelvis is flush with the backs of Kyoutani’s thighs. 

Kyoutani slow-blinks and bites his lip, and the impression of his teeth on his swollen bottom lip has Yahaba crushing Kyoutani’s legs to his chest to ground himself against the overwhelmingly heady feeling pressing in on him. He’s gonna black out. He’s gonna black out if he moves, but then Kyoutani fucking shimmies his hips and Yahaba is on  _ fire _ , and he pulls back and ruts forward to chase the ghost of friction.    
  
A choked out litany of curses punctuates the sound of Yahaba slamming into Kyoutani’s thighs, prompting Kyoutani to push them tighter around him with a murmured, “That’s it, that’s it, I’ve got you.” 

With every thrust, Yahaba pulls only slightly away from the narrow space between Kyoutani’s legs, reluctant to withdraw his come-slick cock from the silkiness of his inner thighs. He settles for grinding into him rough and fast, and once he gains a mostly steady rhythm, Yahaba drops his hands from their death grip on Kyoutani’s shins to dig his fingers into his thighs in time with the roll of his hips, spreading his own legs so that he slips into a wider kneel. His dick slides down too, to the tops of Kyoutani’s thighs where the edges of the stockings are, and Yahaba grits his teeth with the rougher drag of the lace against his flesh. 

Kyoutani reaching above him to push against the headboard and meet the harsh drive of his hips is what does Yahaba in. He yells Kyoutani’s name and curls his fingers into the stockings hard enough to bruise, his release pattering against Kyoutani’s abs in two ropey shots, more pulses dribbling from his slit to stain the stockings. 

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Yahaba breathes. He winces as he disentangles from Kyoutani’s legs, afraid to touch his overly sensitive dick, gently laying them down on the bed and admiring his work while he comes down from the high. 

He feels raw, Kyoutani looks ravaged, and the stockings are fucking ruined. Pearlescent strings cling to the nylon amid damp patches where he smeared come into them, stripes running down where his nails pierced them as he clutched Kyoutani’s thighs. Yahaba’s cheeks flare from embarrassment at his own enthusiasm, and to hide his wounded pride, he collapses spreadeagled next to Kyoutani, one arm draped listlessly over Kyoutani’s chest. 

He feels Kyoutani take a deep breath and holds his own, steeling himself against the inevitable.

“So I take it that you liked that,” Kyoutani not-quite-asks. 

Yahaba roots around his foggy head for the right response, instead coming up with something brilliant: “Yes. It was...good. Yes. Yes.”

Kyoutani grunts. “I feel like you gave me rug burn.”

“Yeah, my dick hurts,” Yahaba says with a hesitant laugh. Now that the heady rush is gone, he’s waiting for Kyoutani to mock him, to call him dumb for getting so worked up over his stockings. Yahaba can’t remember ever being this affected by women, or anyone, really, in sheer nylon. Maybe it’s the combination of the stockings and the thong, which is still pulled to the side over his crotch. Yahaba’s mouth waters.

The reproach never comes. Kyoutani threads his fingers with Yahaba’s, and they lie there like that sharing body heat and silence until Kyoutani starts to fidget under his arm. Yahaba peeks open an eye to watch him sit up, admiring the shift of his back muscles as he moves. It’s just as easy for Kyoutani to rip the thong off as Yahaba imagined, and with nothing to hold them up, the elastic straps hang down to the sides.

As if he knows Yahaba’s watching, Kyoutani deliberately rolls down the wreckage of his stockings to his ankles before shuffling them off with his feet, fingers caressing his freed skin. Then he turns to look at Yahaba and his smile is equal parts wicked, smug, and beautiful. 

“I’ll have to get some new ones,” he says, tipping his head to indicate the come-stained stockings at his toes. “You can tack them onto your next shopping list.” 

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt list: [☆](https://ohmykokuroo.tumblr.com/post/164156385511/kinktober-2017)
> 
> my picks (NOT in order): [♡](https://ohmykokuroo.tumblr.com/post/165843243141/hi-hello-kinktober-is-nearly-upon-us-so-its-time)
> 
> [tumblr](http://fucklev.tumblr.com) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/lovedeluxxxe)


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